Endless Laughter
by UOFLfan7
Summary: Doctor Harleen Quinzell is a young pyschologist with big dreams and a ton of potential. So much potential in fact that her first patient is the Joker...a sadistic and twisted man who has a tendency for twisting the minds of those around him. Now Harleen has to fight both her growing obsession with the Joker and for her own sanity. Reviews are much appreciated! Thanks for reading!
1. The Happiest Place on Earth

_ Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Joker, Harley Quinn, or any other related characters. That privilege goes to DC._

_1/13/13 Arkham Asylum_

_Harleen Quinzell's POV_

Arkham Asylum. The dreariest place in the whole damn world…at least, that's what everybody says. The tall, dark towers rose up into the sky like horns from some demon warning you of your doom…warning you of the terrors that lie inside Arkham. The Scarecrow, Killer Croc, Bane, The Riddler, The Mad Hatter…The Joker…they all reside here under one terrifying roof. I was always told that the asylum was poisonous…told that I couldn't handle working there, that I would either get scared and quit, or through foolishness stay long enough to see myself go crazy. Then again that's what everybody thinks when the see me, they think that I'm some fragile little girl…think that I can't defend myself against even the littlest of threats. That's why I took this damn job, to prove all my naysayers wrong. That's the key to success.

I walked through the large medieval style doors that welcomed all visitors to Arkham. Two guards escorted me to a waiting area which stuck out amongst the rest of the asylum. The walls were painted yellow and the chairs were cushioned rather comfortably. It didn't seem like I was in an asylum at all, much less Arkham. An older man with a white lab coat on walked over to me.

"Ah, you are Harleen Quinzell I presume?" The man presumed.

"Yes sir." I said, standing up and shaking his hand. "The one and only!"

"I think you'll enjoy it here Harleen. The pay is good, and whilst the hours can be long some nights it is rather quiet." The man said cheerfully, before sighing. "Look, I'm not supposed to say this to new employees, but you're young and must be very bright to have secured this job. Quit…this job isn't what you think it is. This asylum is awful…the patients here are truly malicious and completely insane…the days are short and the nights long. Get out before you get sucked in."

"You know, I'm getting really tired of hearing people say that I won't be able to handle this job. I know I can handle it and I will prove it to all of you. I'm sorry sir, but I'm not quitting." I said, frustrated.

"I'm sorry I offended you. Follow me and I will take you to Doctor Arkham so he can give you your first assignment." The man apologized before looking down at his feet. He began directing me through the corridors of the asylum, fighting through cobwebs and rats. We went up a long winding staircase and went through a rather large door into an extravagant looking room. A man sitting down in a nice armchair stood up and walked over to me. He was older, yet maintained _most_ of his hair…admittedly there were a few rather noticeable bald spots but he did look good for his age.

"Ah, Harleen Quinzell. I must say, you are just as beautiful in person." The man said, extending his hand which I, of course, shook. "I am doctor Arkham, but you know that of course."

I faked a smile.

"I'm assuming you're here for your first assignment. Now I know your new and this may seem to be a rather odd assignment but I greatly admire your work and the essay you wrote on Hybristophilia was just outstanding. Truly a great read. Harleen, you have a bright future and that is why I trust that you will do outstanding if given the opportunity and will shine if given the right patient. Now, don't be alarmed or frighten Harleen, but you assignment is going to be The Joker." Doctor Arkham said.

"THE JOKER?! Why the hell would you give me him? I just started working here and you're already giving me the damn Joker?" I screamed in alarm.

"Now Harleen, listen, I'm sure you will do fine. Just calm down." Doctor Arkham tried to soothe.

I took a deep breath…maybe The Joker won't be so bad…maybe, just maybe _I _can use _him_ in ways to benefit me. I can write a book on him, a book that will be turned into a movie and maybe even a television series as well. I'll make millions!

"You're right Doctor Arkham. My outburst was uncalled for and I truly am sorry. I'll begin sessions with my patient tomorrow sir." I said, smirking with every word.

"I knew you would be okay with it." Doctor Arkham said. "And Harleen, you'll do outstanding."

"Thank you doctor" I said before leaving the room, my stomach filled with butterflies.

The Joker…damn.

_1/14/13 Arkham Asylum_

_Harleen Quinzell's POV_

I shakily stumbled down the long, dark corridor to The Joker's cell…to most terrifying room in the most terrifying building in the most terrifying city on the most terrifying planet. I showed my badge to three guards who then proceeded to escort me down the hall, their eyes darting all around. At the end of the long corridor there stood a single room with no name plate. The guards typed in a long passcode, which I recognized as being 8938475321, swiped their card three times in a pattern, once horizontally and twice vertically and said "Jokes on you." into a microphone on the door.

The door slid open electronically as the guards escorted me into the room, which was dimly lit by a single light bulb on the ceiling.

"We'll be right outside, scream if you need our assistance. We'll be able to hear you." One of the guards said, before closing the door…locking me in there with the personification of terror himself.

A man with green hair and a white face, which I presumed to be face paint, turned around. His mouth was forcibly stretched out into a wide smile.

"Looky here…Mr. Arkham has brought me some company!" The Joker said. "Oh and is she a looker!"

"Hello Joker, my name is…." I started before getting cut off.

"Doctor Harleen Quinzell. You wrote the all so popular essay on Hybristophilia. I thought it was rather bland personally…it needed more, oh I don't know, comedy?" The Joker mocked, shrugging his shoulders…his wide smile turning into a wide frown.

"You read my essay?" I asked, curious.

"As yes, of course I did. I'm a sucker for phycology you know? The study into the human mind is fascinatingly funny! It's a bad joke, ya know, you can't really tell what how a person will act based on some physcological guesses and some bland observations! Oh, but that is the irony of the world, huh Harl?" The Joker said.

"It's Doctor Harleen. I'm afraid were not on first name basis yet Joker." I said, a little shaken, but more intrigued then anything.

"Well good thing Harl isn't your first name! You see, _Harl_, what are names truly, but a reflection on your character. Its why I go by The Joker, not Bob or Wanda. I'm not some fat old businessman, nor am I a waitress at a disco restaurant! I'm a crazed, yet lovable, JOKER!" The Joker said, his wide smile growing wider. "You know Harl, you have a rather interesting name. It makes me smile thinking about it. Harleen Quinzell…Harleen…Quinzell…you take a few letters away and you get Harley Quinn!"

"Like the clown, I know, I've been told that before." I said, getting annoyed. "Alright Joker, now that we got introductions out of the way, let's get down to business. I'm gonna ask you a few questions about yourself and your going to answer them to the best of your ability."

"I hate tests." Joker murmured…I ignored him.

"Let's begin. First question, "Why do you feel the need to kill?" I asked, taking out a notepad and a pen.

"La, la, la, la…good ole' Batman Harley. He just seems to get on my nerves ya know? But then again, Bats isn't the only reason I kill. Its funny! I mean, it's all one big joke! The best part is that if I use my Joker gas they get to go out laughing! Isn't that great?" The Joker laughed, throwing his arms up and almost falling over.

I let out a small chuckle at that, not at what he said…of course not…I don't think anyways.

"Alright smart guy, question number two, "What is it that drives you to commit crimes?" I asked…dammit, do I really have no better questions…how freaking redundant.

"How redundant Harley…can't you come up with some better questions? Sigh, I've been through this before. Its all a big joke…Joker gas…go out laughing…" The Joker faked a yawn. "Harley…you know why I hate tests?"

"Huh?" I asked, taken aback with surprise.

"I was a young whippersnapper, not above the age of fifteen when my math teacher…Mrs. Crane…gave us a pop quiz. Oh boy do I remember it clearly. Mrs. Crane was a rather ugly woman, not to be mean of course, but she defiantly wasn't as beautiful as you. She was a long neck, similar to that of an ostrich, these thick old woman glasses that seemed to be a thousand sizes too big, had a long, crooked nose, huge monkey like ears, and was always frowning…BOY DO I MEAN ALWAYS! Well you see, she gave out this pop quiz, and that it would be funny to make it count for twenty five percent of out grade! Now, this pop quiz was over stuff that we didn't even go over in class, but I was bright so I easily answered all the questions. My best friend, Billy, nudged me on the shoulder and asked if he could copy my answers. 'Sure Billy boy!' I says, and handed him my quiz. He was on the last question when that bitch Mrs. Crane caught a glimpse in the corner of her eye of good ole Billy boy cheating off _my _test! Oh boy she was furious and instantly ripped apart both our tests, giving us both zeros. She then emailed my father, who wasn't very happy to say the least. So I decided to cheer him up with a joke, and remembered that he loved those old television shows where somebody would get a pie thrown in their face. So, I got home and made a trap so that he walked in the door from work, it would activate a lever which would pull a pie right in his face!

Oh it was going to be perfect. So, my father gets home and slowly opens the door, as I stand there with a huge smile on my face…waiting with anticipation. Daddy dearest opens the door and WABAAM, a pie goes flying in his face. Boy did he look funny, with pie dripping from his face down to the ground. He looked like a circus clown." The Joker paused and began laughing hysterically and I couldn't help but to join in. His laughter was contagious.

"And…daddy comes over to me with a big old grin on his face, as I stand there laughing and KABLAM! Knocks me out cold with a fist straight to my face!"

My laughter stopped slowly as a tear went down my eye.

"That's the risk comedians take though, ya know. Some people just don't get the joke." The Joker said, shrugging.

"I…I…I" I stuttered speechless. The Joker stared at me, that smile seemingly burned onto his face. For a second I thought I saw a tear glister in his eye.

"You?" The Joker asked, raising an eybrow.

"I….." I started before the door behind me slid open.

"Doctor Harleen, your session is up. You may go home." The guard said.

"See you tomorrow Harley." The Joker said, winking at me as the guard escorted me out…thoughts flying around jumbled in my head.

Some people just don't get the joke…that one sentence resonated with me the rest of the night, and I anxiously fell asleep. I couldn't wait for tomorrow.

_Thanks for reading…hope you enjoyed it. Also, while I realize that Harley Quinn's origin story has been done numerous times both by fanfiction authors and real life comic book authors, I wanted to put my own spin on it and see if I couldn't possible get inside these characters heads and really show the psychological struggles that Harleen had to face. Please comment and leave your thoughts, good or bad, as that is the only way I will truly improve my writing. _


	2. Session 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Harley Quinn, The Joker, or any other related characters. They are owned by DC comics, and rightfully so._

_Arkham Asylum_

_1/15/13_

_Harleen Quinzell's POV_

My nerves were all over the place as I found myself once again staring face to face with pure evil. The Joker, with his white face paint, fake smile, and dark yet mesmerizing eyes seemingly stared right through me and into my very soul. This is how it had been for the past ten minutes, I would ask him a question, yet he wouldn't answer…only sit there and stare like he couldn't comprehend a word I was saying.

"Joker…our session is running out of time." I pleaded to no avail, time to try a different approach. "Mistah Joker, will you please just do me one favor and answer one little question so I can have it down for my patient report."

"Nooooo…." The Joker started. "But you can answer one little question for me, so I can write it down for my doctor report!"

"I ask the questions Mistah Joker." I said…Mister Joker, I kind of liked that, had a twinge to it that fitted my accent perfectly.

"Oh, no, no, no, no misses." The Joker said, wiggling his finger at me. "Not today."

"Mistah Joker…" I started, but got cut off.

"Lovely accent Harley." The Joker said. "What is that? Jersey?"

"No sir, Bensonhurst, Brooklyn." I said, not even realizing I called him sir, until after I said it.

"Sooooo…onto my question Harl! Do you respect me?" The Joker asked, tongue darting about his lips.

"I…wait…what?" I stammered, taken aback by the question.

"I'm not speaking Chinese…do you respect me?" The Joker once again asked.

"I…you kill people for fun, killing is wrong, no…I don't respect you." I said, trying to regain my composure.

"Are you sure? I think you do Harley." The Joker countered.

"I can't respect someone like you…it's impossible Mister Joker. Like I said killing is wrong, and you have a habit of killing people for fun." I said, confidence returning.

"I do it for the giggles, its true." The Joker said, smiling widely.

"And that is wrong." I said, reinforcing my statement.

"Another question Harl." The Joker started. "You keep saying that killing for giggles is wrong, who are you trying to convince, myself or you?"

That question shook me to my core as I stared wide eyed at the fiend who was sitting in front of me. His question left me in a state of shock.

"Why…you…nobody!" I said. "I'm not trying to convince anybody you creep! KILLING IS WRONG! IT'S IN THE BIBLE! WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!"

I exploded, unable to control myself. How dare this creep question my sense of morals? How dare he question me? I'm the freaking psychiatrist not him. HE needs MY help! Not the other way around.

"Tsk, tsk, doctor. Not very professional to get all moody around your patient. Did I pull a nerve? What's wrong Harl? You want good old Mister J to help you get off whatever is on your mind." The Joker soothed and mocked at the same time.

"I don't need professional help from you. I'm _your _psychiatrist, NOT the other way around." I explained angrily.

"Harley…" The Joker started, but I cut him off.

"WE ARE NOT ON FIRST NAME BASIS! DO NOT CALL ME HARLEY OR HARL OR WHATEVER PET NAME YOU HAVE FOR ME!" I roared, seeing red everywhere.

"Hush now _Harley_…Joker's got you." Joker mocked, almost pushing me off the edge.

I sighed, trying desperately to regain my composure…thoughts flooding through my head like water flooding into a city after a dam broke. I desperately attempted to regain it, take back my mind, but I was losing the battle. Where were the guards? Didn't they hear my outburst? Isn't the time for the session over?

"What's the matter Harley? Do you need a big ole, wet kiss on the cheek from Mistah J?" Joker asked, mocking my accent.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…."

Laughter. I exploded, not in rage, but in laughter. I fell off my chair and began rolling on the ground in a fit of laughter, unable to stop myself. It was like my mind had just broke…like I had become nothing more than a crazed psychopath…the same psychopaths that roamed these halls. NO! I'm better than this…I have to regain myself. Can't afford to lose my mind, I'm strong enough to handle being the Joker's patient…I mean lov…no, no, no…I mean doctor dammit.

I slowly regained myself, as the Joker stared at me, seemingly amused by my sudden outburst.

"I'm truly sorry, that was unprofessional." I apologized.

"I liked it. Brought a smile to my face…laughter always does!" The Joker said.

"It was unprofessional, you are my patient and I shouldn't allow you to see myself like that." I said.

"Don't act like those other doctors Harl…you're different!" The Joker said. "I can see that in you…you remind me of myself. More innocent and naïve, but we have a lot of similarities!"

"I'm nothing like you Mistah J…oker." I said, why would I call him Mistah J? A pet name…really? That isn't very professional Harley…dammit…Harleen.

"Oh come on now Harley…you mustest admit that we have _some_ similarities." The Joker pleaded.

"I…no. We don't Joker. My time is almost up; the guards should be coming any minute now." I said, trying to find a way to change the subject. This was getting too personal for my taste. "I have time for one more question."

"Alright, here I go…" The Joker started, but I cut him off.

"I'm going to ask you the question." I said robotically…ugh, I hate sounding so bland, but I have to, it's the only way I can maintain any type of sanity talking to this monster. "Do you believe you are making Gotham a better place by doing the things you've done?"

"In soooommmmeee ways, I guess." Joker answered. "Like if I were to kill Batman, which would make Gotham a better place wouldn't ya say? He is a menace to the sanity of all citizens of Gotham! Gotham is just too serious for my tastes…it needs a bit more laughter…a bit more smiling faces! That's all I truly hope to accomplish…all I want is to bring laughter to Gotham."

The door behind me slid open as two guards came in the room, signaling that my session was over. I thanked Joker for my time and waved goodbye as he gave me a little wink and a wave goodbye which made me blush a little. The guards escorted me out of the Asylum and to my car. I thanked them and drove home, relieved to finally be leaving that god forsaken place behind at least until tomorrow.

_Harleen Quinzell's Apartment_

_1/15/13_

_Harleen Quinzell's POV_

I slipped into my red and black pajamas and laid down in my bed, which had red pillows and black covers…my favorite two colors. Thoughts buzzed around my head, thoughts of The Joker…thoughts of my Mister J…I mean, my patient, The Joker. I sighed and took off my glasses, closing my eyes and letting the warmth of sleep take a hold of me.

T_hanks for reading…hope you enjoyed it. Please comment and leave your thoughts, good or bad, as that is the only way I will truly improve my writing._


	3. A Small Complaint

___Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Harley Quinn, The Joker, or any other related characters. They are owned by DC comics, and rightfully so._

_Arkham Asylum_

_1/16/13_

_Doctor Arkham's POV_

"Ooooh, I like it when you're rough." Joker taunted as he was brought forcibly into my office. "I got to say Arky; you really know how to make a man feel welcomed!"

"Joker, I have received a complaint about your from one of our staff members. Care to explain?" I said, getting directly to the point.

"A complaint!? About meeeeee? Nooooooo…I swear Arky, I've been as good as an angel!" The Joker said, faking surprise.

What a freaking creep…who the hell does he think he is? If I could, I would have him executed this very instant, but nooo, damn Justice League with their damnable prison reforms said executing prisoners was illegal. The monster _deserved_ to be killed.

"Shut up Joker, I've had it with your games. What the hell do you think your doing? Harassing one of _my_ staff members? I would have you executed…." I let my voice trail off.

"But the Justice League said you couldn't! Oh, Arky, what a predicament you are in. Can't execute your own prisoners. OH THE HORROR!" Joker laughed, his hands going up to his mouth.

I nodded at the guard behind him, and understanding what I meant, the guard jammed his assault rifle into the back of The Joker.

"Ouch, hey watch where you're sticking that thing! I have a bad back ya know!" The Joker said before bursting out in laughter. "So, Arky, which staff member sent in this little complaint? Was it Hunter? Steve? Oh I know, it was _my_ little harlequin wasn't it?"

"Joker, you know I can't give you the name of the person who sent in the complaint. I had you brought up here so I could properly warn you. If I get one more complaint from anybody about you, I'll make you wish you were dead." I said, trying to intimidate the unintimidateable.

"Sounds like a hoot!" The Joker screamed. "Oh Arky, you wouldn't guess what tricks I have under my sleeve. Harl and I are two of a kind, two peas in a pod you could say! I just wanted to say thanks! Thank you for allowing Harley to be _my_ patient…excuse me…doctor."

"Whatever you fiend…take the piece of shit back to his cell. Oh and give him a little beating for me before Harleen gets here for session 3. I want to make sure that The Joker gets the idea about harassment." I demanded, not sure if that came out right or intimidating but not caring.

"OH ARKY! YOU MAKE ME SHIVER IN MY BOOTS, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The Joker laughed as the guards took him back to his cell, his laughter drifting through the halls.

Damn him to hell.

_Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and as always please leave your comments and thoughts! _


	4. Origins of a Madman

___Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Harley Quinn, The Joker, or any other related characters. They are owned by DC comics, and rightfully so._

_Arkham Asylum_

_1/16/13_

_Harleen Quinzell's POV_

Hopefully Joker will have got the message from Doctor Arkham…that way he'll leave me alone. I don't need him trying to mess with my mind, and that last thing I want him doing is trying to compare us to each other. He is a deranged lunatic with a sadistic fetish of killing, while I'm a perfectly sane psychiatrist with a psychiatrist degree and an OUTSTANDING personality. Not one bit crazy. Nope, not one bit.

I started laughing to myself as I walked down the hall to Joker's cell. I'll show him just how sane I truly him! I reached the cell and just like the other two times, the guards opened it and allowed me in, telling me if I need help just to scream. _Help?_ I'm perfectly sane, why would _I_ need help? Maybe they need help! Guess they think I'm just some weak little girl…screw them.

"Harley? Is that you?" The Joker asked from his bed. "I can barely see after that beating the guards gave me!"

"You deserved it." I said coldly.

"You don't really believe that Harley, you want to think that you truly believe it, but you really don't. In fact, the only reason you even went to Doctor Arkham is because you are trying so hard to prove to the world that you are sane. Harley, everybody has a little crazy in them, you and I just have a tiny bit more than everybody else. That's not a bad thing! You see, we don't see the world the same way they do Harl, we see it in a different…LIGHT!" The Joker said, exaggerating that last part, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I'm here to examine you and help cure you." I said coldly once again, Joker seemed to thrive off emotions, if I show no emotions, then I can't lose. "First question, how did you become like this?"

"Your voice stings like icy venom…I LOVE IT!" The Joker said, laughing.

"Answer the question." I replied, getting a bit angry.

"Ta-ta-ta, rum-drum-rum, why…are...you…so…GLUM!?" The Joker joked, trying to push me over the edge.

"Answer it." I demanded. I could feel the rage boiling inside me, I just wanted to lash on this creep.

"What if I say…no." Joker said, crossing his arms.

"What if I slapped the shit out of you?" I asked.

"You won't." The Joker challenged. "You have to much respect for me."

"Watch me." I said. I got up calmly and walked over to the Joker who began to home. I raised my hand and…sighed. I couldn't do it, I dropped my hand down to my side, and bowed my head in defeat as I slouched back over to my chair.

"Looky here, Mister J was right." The Joker mocked.

"Please just answer the question Mistah J." I said, not even realizing that I had called him by the pet name he seemingly gave himself.

"Well it all started when I got a gig at a comedy club. Boy was I the happiest man on the planet! All those years of hard work and determination had finally paid off, and I would be able to feed my pregnant wife! It was a great time to be me, let me tell you Harl. Well, I got up there for my first gig, and saw the huge crowd of smiling faces. Oh man did it bring a smile to my face. I start to tell the joke, 'so two guys try to escape from an insane asylum…" and then I froze. I couldn't remember the rest of the joke! The crowd began to boo and his and throw who knows what at me as I bowed my head and walked away in shame…similar to what you just did! Anywho, I got involved with some mobsters who wanted me to help them steal from a chemical plat and they promised me money to help my wife and unborn child, so I accepted their kind offer. I donned the identity of the Red Hood and directed the mobsters to the plant, but lo and behold, the alarm was triggered and good ole bats what contacted. Batman chased me through the chemical waste factory and in order to escape him I jumped, thinking that I would just land in water. My luck ran out, and while I escaped batman, I emerged in a pond of chemical waste, completely disfigured and completely…." The Joker explained.

"Insane." I said, filling in the last word for him. It hit me…the Joker wasn't all that evil and sadistic. No, he was a lost soul looking for a way to exist in life. A lost soul, unable to cope with his disfigurement and unable to forget that he was unable to care for his wife and unborn child. I felt for him, and maybe he was right, maybe we did have some similarities.

"Quite right pooh." The Joker said, smiling sadly. "Though sometimes I remember it a different way. If I have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice."

I couldn't hold back any longer and exploded in tears. I sobbed immensely as The Joker started to whistle "Hush, Little Baby" which only made the tears come more furiously. It was like waterfalls were coming out of my eyes. The Joker walked over to me, and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't cry pooh, it'll be alright." He soothed.

"Mistah J?" I asked.

"Hmmm." He answered softly.

"What _was_ the ending to that joke that you were going to tell in your first comedy gig?" I asked.

"One guy leaps over the fence, but the other one is too scared to do it. The guy who lept over the fence says that he'll shine flashlight over the gap so that the other one can walk across it and escape with him. The one afraid to jump responds, 'What do you think I am, crazy? If I try to walk across the beam, you'll just turn it off when I get halfway across!'" The Joker answered as we both exploded in laughter.

Suddenly the door slid open behind me as the guards came in; telling me that the time for my session was up. I looked sadly and longingly at The Joker who winked back me, which made my heart flutter. The door to Joker's cell slid closed, as I walked home solemnly.

_Harleen Quinzell's Apartment_

_1/16/13_

_Harleen Quinzell's POV_

What the hell is the matter with me? I felt bad for The Joker? A murderer? Sure, he has a sad backstory, but he could have just been making it up. He's trying to draw me in…trying to play with my mind…but wait, if he truly was trying to play with my mind, what the hell would be his purpose? He has nothing to gain by messing with my mind?

I sat down on my bed and threw my hands over my eyes as I began to weep…weep for myself…weep for my sanity…and weep for _my_ Joker.

_Thanks for reading! I hope you have enjoyed this story so far. As always please leave your comments and thoughts, both good and bad, as they will only make me a better writer. Also, please let me know rather or not I'm getting the characters "voices" right, as this is my first ever Batman fanfic and I want to make sure they sound and stay true to what they sound like in BOTH the comics and films. Once again, thanks for reading!_


	5. Spitting Image

_Arkham Asylum_

_1/17/13_

_Harleen Quinzell's POV_

The Joker sat on the bed in front of me, looking off into space. Everytime I would attempt to talk to him, he would merely put a finger over his mouth and shush, before once again looking off into space. Sure, it was a nice break from the confusion that he had brought me, but a part of me longed for him to speak, longed for him to just say one little word. What the hell is the matter with me? I longed for the Joker to say something? Ugh, even in silence insanity rules my mind, even in silence the Joker remains strong.

"Mistah J? Look, we gotta talk, ya know?" I said not even realizing that my vocabulary had degraded to be more childish, or playful I guess you could call it, and that my accent was becoming more prominent every day.

The Joker responded by once again putting a finger up to his mouth and hushing.

"Just talk to Harl…whatcha got on ya mind?" I said, desperate to get him to talk.

The Joker glared at me, smirked, and then once again put his finger up to his lipped and hushed.

The silence was becoming deafening…I longed for noise, for the sound of someone else's voice. I couldn't just sit here for the next thirty minutes and stare at the Joker…I would go insane!

"Come on Mistah J…let's have a heart to heart with Harley!" I exclaimed, desperation seething into my voice now.

"A heart to heart with Harley?" Joker repeated smirking. "Sounds like the name of some trashy television show…I love trashy television shows!"

Well at least he's talking…

"So whatch on ya mind puddi…Mistah J?" I asked, realizing I just almost called him pudding…PUDDING! I could go for some pudding right now. Vanilla pudding. Nice, cold vanilla pudding. Wait? Why am I thinking about pudding? What the hell is happening to me? I can't even keep a straight train of thought nowadays. Ugh I should of became a cook or something. This psychology thing is getting in my head, making it me a little cuckoo.

"Well Harl, its just, these walls are rather bland ya know? Not much excitement goes on in these rooms…nothing to be happy about. Where are the colors? The rainbows? The clowns? The…chaos?" The Joker answered. "It reminds me of Batman, ya know? He's always so bland, always so dark. He needs to lighten up every once and a while. That's why I like you Harl! You always bring a…smile…to my face!"

I blushed…wait what? I blushed! Damn it Harl…een…Harleen, get a damn grip on yourself!

"Well that's very kind of you." I replied, trying to maintain control over my thought _and_ my actions as well at this point.

"Batman reminds me a lot of my father...he never really laughs, never gets the joke! That's the one truth of comedy Harley, that you always going to take jabs from the people who just don't get the joke." The Joker replied, sighing.

"Since I am your psychiatrist, I can request to have these walls in here painted if that would make you feel better. They would ask why, and I would say that blandness only increases your desire to kill…even if that really isn't the case." I offered, trying my best to make him feel better and remain professional at the same time.

The Joker exploded, his laughter floating all the way to the ceiling. I wasn't expecting that type of response, and nearly jumped out of my seat in shock. After I recovered from the initial shock I allowed a small giggle to escape from me. That small giggle was fuse on a bomb getting lit as soon after I exploded in laughter, once again laughing along with the Joker. Laughing at what…who knows…but I couldn't stop. For a second I lost all control, it was like I was looking at my body from the outside. I jumped out of my chair and made a beeline for the Joker. Something inside me snapped, something deep down that I had been trying so hard to suppress finally made itself known with a bang instead of the small whimpers it had been doing. I jumped into the Joker, knocking him over and onto his prison bed. I then leaned in to kiss him…and stopped.

All the sudden I had control over myself again. I quickly jumped off the Joker and straightened myself up. He sat up and looked at me in what I could only describe as true shock. I blushed and carefully slid over to my chair, sitting down and picking up my pencil and notepad.

"So are you ready to answer questions?" I asked nervously.

"Wha…what the hell was that?" The Joker asked.

"What was what?" I asked innocently.

"You…bed…kiss…me? WHAT THE HELL?!" The Joker exploded.

"I…I'm sorry Mistah J, I…." I started unable to think of an excuse…dammit Harleen think. Suddenly the door slid open behind me, as the guards came in to save me from my embarrassment. "I gotta go…goodbye Mistah J…see ya…sometime."

I quickly scattered out of the room with the guards, afraid to look back, afraid to look at the man who I had become obsessed with…the man who had twisted my mind. I couldn't believe what was happening to me. There I was, a girl who had just recently gotten her psychiatric degree, and I was flirting with my very first patient. Not only flirting, but as unprofessional as it sounds, I had grown to have real feelings for him. Stockholm Syndrom? Perhaps…but that was something I couldn't afford to have. I have to remain professional…I…he is kind of dre…no dammit no! Stay calm Harl…Harley…DAMMIT…Harleen. Stay calm and laugh…laughing will calm you dow…wait laugh? What the hell am I thinking? These guards need to smile more…wait no they don't. Shit. I'm losing it. I have to regain control…have to maintain control of my mind. A tear ran down my face as I realized that my mind was slowly but surely fading away, as I realized that I was becoming a spitting image of the Joker.

_ Once again thanks for reading! As always please leave your comments and thoughts both good and bad as they will only serve to make me a better writer. _


	6. Hybristophilia

_Harleen Quinzell's Apartment_

_1/18/13_

_Harleen Quinzell's POV_

_Hybristophilia_

_By,  
Doctor Harleen Quinzell_

"Hybristophilia is paraphilia of the predatory type in which sexual arousal, facilitation, and attainment of orgasm are responsive to and contingent upon being with a partner to have committed an outrage, or crime such as rape, murder, or armed robbery. In popular culture this is known as Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome, rightfully named after the world's most well-known and notorious hybristophiliacs Bonnie and her 'lover' Clyde. Many criminals such as Gotham's own Scarecrow or The Joker have received a cult based following and have even received fan mail in the mail from their so-called fans, an act which many believe is completely and wrong and quite disturbing.

It is my finding however that most hybristophiliacs are merely lost souls whom believe that they were contrived by society as a mere joke, something to laugh at and poke fun at. Many hybristophiliacs were woman or men who were at one point or another in their life on the verge of suicide, yet unable to go through with the action. The consequence was the complete and total deteriation of their psyche and literal snapping of their mind. Driven insane by the challenges that life had thrown at them, hybristophiliacs look for somebody they can relate too and rather than joining social groups or going to bars they attach themselves to criminals, and in this case, the more violent the crime the better. Hybristophiliacs have convinced themselves that the criminal does what he or she does not out of hatred of society but because they at one point in their life were lost and confused as well. This creates an attraction between the hybristophiliacs and the man or woman that she or he never even has really met, an attraction most of the time similar to that of a high school crush.

Many hybristophiliacs are capable of being treated with both unconventional and conventional psychological methods, but likewise, many have degraded so far into their false realities that they are truly a hollow shell of whom they use to be, willing to divulge in any act…no matter how heinous…in order to please they're 'lover'. Hybristophilia is a dangerous medical disease that must be taken care of and treated carefully and with caution, as if you say or do one wrong thing, you may accidentally cause the patient to degrade to the point of utter and total madness."

I stopped reading and crumpled up the report in anger. I didn't go to Arkham, I skipped out, and called in sick…I couldn't face him. Not after what happened yesterday, not after the humiliation I put myself through. Not after…not after my mind almost snapped. I nearly lost it yesterday, nearly degraded into the very thing that my report was describing. The irony was not lost on me, a hybristophiliac writing a paper on hybristophiliacs.

Hybristophilia. I can't get that word out of my head, out of my psyche. Am I truly a hybristophiliac? Am I truly in love with a psychotic, murderous, clown? Does that make me insane if I am? Hybristophilia. Hybristophilia. I do not have Hybristophilia. Just keep telling yourself that Harley. Keep telling yourself that and you'll be fine. I do not have Hybristophilia. Maybe I do though, what I am a hybristophiliac. How would I continue to live my life? Would I go insane like so many before me?

NO…I'm not a hybristophiliac…I don't admire that creep the Joker, and I most certainly am not in love with am. I live in reality, and in reality the Joker is no better than any other psychopath residing in Arkham, hell, in reality he's _worse_ than most of the other psychopaths. I can't have a crush on him, not even a high school crush, and I most certainly couldn't _love_ him. He is an abusive, sadistic, antisocial sociopath who kills for fun and laughs at the pain he causes to the world. His laugh may be contagious…for the love of God, I actually _laughed_ with him…on multiple occasions now. I've jumped _ontop _of him and nearly kissed the creep.

What is becoming of me? What is _he_ doing to me? I never thought that I would become this sad little shell of my former self, a little girl who can't control her emotions, a…hybristophiliac…who swoons over a criminal mastermind. It's Doctor Arkham's fault. It's his entire, damnable, god forsaken, fault. If that moron didn't give me the Joker for my first assignment I wouldn't be in this position. I wouldn't be questioning my own sanity, no, I would be helping other patients find theirs! I should get my revenge on him…I should make him pay for the shit he is putting me through. I should put a damn smile on his face; show him the thing he created! Oh it'll be a hoot, I'll die laughing, watching him cry for help and nobody coming to his aid, Arky won't know wha…wait, what the hell am I thinking?

I wouldn't harm him, I _couldn't_, it's not in my nature, and there is defiantly no way I would laugh at it if I did accidentally harm him. I have to get rest, but I can sleep. Everytime I close my eyes, he's there, smiling at me. That big, damnable smile…no…that big, _lovable_ smile…wait no…I was right the first time. Damnable, not lovable, DAMNABLE. I need a break from Arkham, at least over the weekend. I'll go back Monday, refreshed, rejuvenated, and ready to continue what I started. I'll be stronger than ever before and there is no way in hell that I'll let my mind be broken by that fiend the Joker. He will not win; I will not become his biggest joke. The Joker can laugh in his cell for eternity for all I care, he can laugh about how he is fooling ole stupid lil Harley, but I'll have the last laugh. I will not let him mess with my mind, I will not let him destroy my life, and I certainly won't let him convince me that _I _am in love with _him_.

I'm no more in love with the Joker than he is with me. And he is not in love with me. Not all no. He has no feelings for me and likewise I have no feelings for him. None. Nope. Zip. Naughta. Zilch.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself. It's what I have to keep telling myself, it's the only thing keeping me going, keeping me sane. Because once I admit that I have feelings for him, even the smallest amount of feelings, then I have truly lost. Then…there is no going back.

_Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. As always feel free to leave your comments and thoughts, both good and bad, as they are the only way that I can truly improve upon my writing. Chapter 7 should be up tomorrow or Saturday. Thanks once again for reading!_


	7. Laughter and Confusion

_Doctor Frances's Office_

_1/19/13_

_Harleen Quinzell's POV_

I had lost the two most important things in life…my sanity and my mind, and in a desperate attempt to regain them I reached out to the one person I trusted. The one person who was qualified to help me regain control over my mind and my actions. The only person I ever counted as a true friend. When I was younger, I always had a fear, a fear so strong that I couldn't sleep for nights upon nights…always afraid. A fear so powerful that it soon overtook my life, and not only could I not go anywhere without that fear following me, but I couldn't even watch television or read books. I was afraid of one thing and one thing only…but that one thing spread to all aspects of life. That one thing was something you simply couldn't avoid, it was impossible, it was always around you. I had agateophobia…better known as the fear of insanity.

My fear got so bad that my parents took me to see a psychologist whom was an old friend of theirs named James Frances. I spent years upon years with Frances, learning to cope with my fear and eventually get over it. Frances was the one who got me into psychology in the first place. Now I'm back. Back in the old familiar waiting room, sitting on an old familiar chair, and staring at the old familiar walls, with the fading paint job. In fact, the only thing truly new about the room was a television that they put in the back corner of the room, which played a movie describing psychology and explaining what psychologist do.

"Harleen Quinzell." A lady called from the door, beckoning me to follow her. "How are you today?"

"Fine." I answered nervously. Oh the memories. "You?"

"Fine, thank you. Go into the fourth room on the right. Dr. Frances will be with you any minute." The lady directed.

I walked into the room and sat down on the cushioned couch like I had done so many times before. Different room, different couch, same story. I stared at the walls which were decorated with paintings of white clouds, rainbows, and a beautiful blue sky. A knock on the door caused me to jump a little, but as an old familiar face walked in I relaxed.

"Harleen Quinzell? My, my, how I remember you." The man said. He was wearing a nice looking, welcoming sweater and thick glassed.

"Doctor Frances." I greeted, forcing myself to smile.

"Now tell me, why are you here today Harley?" Doctor asked…I snapped.

"HARLEEN! NOT HARLEY! HARLEEN DAMMIT!" I screamed at Doctor Frances, jumping off of the couch and getting right up into his face. He didn't flinch, not even a twitch of the eye or muscle.

"I'm sorry, my bad." Doctor Frances responded, jotting down a quick note on his notepad. I imagined it probably said something like, 'crazy' or 'insane'. "Why is it that you don't like to be called Harley? When you use to see me you had no problem with it. In fact, you told me you would rather I call you Harley."

"Harlequin." I answered solemnly.

"The clown?" Doctor Frances asked.

"Yes sir. The clown character Harlequin. I've had some rather…bad…experiences with clowns lately and really don't want to be associated with them. Please excuse my outburst. It was uncalled for and quite unnecessary." I replied.

"It's alright Harleen. Why don't you start by telling me about these bad experiences?" Doctor Frances offered.

"I'd really rather not." I replied.

"You came here for help. Yes? Well, this is the only way I can help you and the only way you can truly help yourself." Doctor Frances said quietly and understandingly.

"Alright…here I go." I took a deep breath and began. "I had recently gotten my degree in psychology and decided to take up a job opening at Arkham. The asylum. Well, Doctor Arkham said that he was impressed with my research paper on Hybristophilia and assigned me to…assigned me to the Joker. I'm sure you know who the Joker is, so I'm not going to go into great detail on why exactly he was in Arkham and why it shocked me so much that I got assigned to the Joker on my first day working the damn job. Well, after two sessions I began to…he began to…I…"

I exploded in tears, not able to keep my emotions in check. Doctor Frances started writing stuff down on his notepad as I balled my eyes out.

"Harleen…" he started. "It's gonna be okay. Just let it out. What happened after those sessions?"

"I bega…began to have fe…fe…feeling for him! I BEGAN TO HAVE FEELINGS FOR THE DAMN SCUMBAG!" I screamed and sobbed at the same time. Tears flowed from eyes like a waterfall, crashing on the floor beneath me. I could hear every little tear hitting the ground. _Drip, drop, drip, drop. _It was maddening. _Drip, drop, drip, drop._

"You began to have feelings for the Joker?" Doctor Frances asked.

"Yes, and that's not all. I think something snapped in me, my mind dissipated I guess you could say. Vanished. I can barely control my thoughts, or my actions at times now. Sometimes I'll just start thinking about him. Start thinking about me, in his arms, hugging him, kissing him…taking care of _my_ puddin' Mistah J." I explained without realizing that I was devolving on the spot.

"Your pudding Mister J?" Doctor Frances asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's right doc!" I answered playfully.

"Harleen, when did you get that accent?" Doctor Frances asked.

"Why I've always had it!" I answered.

"Really? I don't remember that accent at all from our earlier sessions when you were younger? In fact, I don't remember that accent from the beginning of _this _session." Doctor Frances said.

"Wha…oh shit!" I exclaimed realizing what just happened. "What the hell is wrong with me? If I can't control my mind then I am no better than a luny…I am becoming the very thing I used to fear the most. I'm becoming…"

"Insane." Doctor Frances finished for me. "Harleen, look at me. You are not becoming insane. You are a very confused girl right now, looking for somebody to guide you. Only you've latched onto a psychopath murderer. Harleen, you need to understand that you don't love the Joker and the Joker…he doesn't love you. He is incapable of love. The Joker does not love you Harleen."

"YES HE DOES! And I love him!" I exclaimed. "Who do you think you are? Try'nna tear me and my puddin' apart! Hmph. Shame on you doc."

"Harleen…" Doctor Frances started.

"It's Harley to you." I said.

"You said not to call you Harley, that it reminded you of the clown character Harlequin." Doctor Frances said.

"And what do ya have against clowns, huh?" I asked.

"You were the one that said you didn't like to be associated closesly with clowns." Doctor Frances countered.

"I…" I once again exploded, not in rage or anger, but in sadness. Tears began to pour from my eyes once again as I put my head in my hands and bawled. Every day it was getting harder and harder to control myself, harder and harder to remain in control of my mind. Every day I lost a little bit more of myself. Every day I became closer and closer to the point of no return. Everyday my mind became more and more…broken.

"Harleen…listen very closely. I highly suggest that you go home, get some sleep, and think about what you want to do next week. I personally think that you should either quite your job or at the very least ask for the week off. It's obvious that during your time with the Joker, that he has twisted your mind and is breaking you piece by piece until you become nothing more than a mirror image of himself. Harleen, you are strong enough to overcome this. I know you are." Doctor Frances said, looking down at his notes sadly.

"Thank you doctor fo…fo…fo…for your ti…ti…time. I will consider your advice." I replied, wiping my eyes while trying to put a plug on the faucet that was my eyes.

As I walked out the door, I looked back at Doctor Frances who was shaking his head sadly. In his hands I could make out his notepad, and could barely read the very last note. As I read it slowly, all hope for recovery vanished all hope of being normal, of being sane, went up in smoke.

"Patient, Harleen Quinzell, beyond help and repair. Completely insane."

_Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. As always feel free to leave your comments and thoughts, both good and bad, as they are the only way that I can truly improve upon my writing. Chapter 8 should be up tomorrow or Sunday. Thanks once again for reading! _


	8. Family Woes

_Mrs. Quinzell's House_

_1/20/13_

_Harleen Quinzell's POV_

I glazed up at the two story house, wincing in pain and shaking in terror as I balled me hand up into a fist and slowly knocked on the front door. The hardwood splintered my knuckles, but I didn't care...I had to see her, she was the only one I trusted especially after Doctor Frances betrayed me and made a fool of me. The door slowly slid open as an elderly woman wearing a red long-sleeved shirt and black knickerbottoms bounced out from the house, defiantly not showing her age.

"Hel…HARLEEN!" The elderly woman exploded in surprise and joy, wrapping me up into a gigantic bear hug. "Oh how I've missed you so much dear. I mean, I know we talk every week over the phone, but ever since you moved to Gotham for that college down there I haven't gotten to see how beautiful and mature you look. You haven't changed a bit Harleen!"

"Mom…" I started.

"Yes honey?" She cut me off.

"Can you please release your death grip, I think I'm beginning to see stars." I responded.

She let go and welcomed me inside. She had recently redecorated, or at least had redecorated since I last live there. The walls were painted a fresh baby blue, a nice soft carpet was placed over what use to be hardwood, a warm and cozy fire licked up out of the fireplace, an armchair greeted all visitors welcomingly, and a coach that screamed sit on me sat directly across from a massive flat screen television.

"Bob honey!" My mom screamed. "Come quick, I have a surprise for you!"

"Ugh…honey it better not be another pair of those damn boxer briefs! I've told you already, I don't like the color purple!" My dad responded grumpily.

"OH HUSH UP! You love my boxer briefs!" My mom shot back. "He really does." She whispered to me.

"Alright, alright, hold ye horses woman, I'm comin." Dad said as he walked slowly down the steps, his face lighting up when he saw me.

I ran over to him and gave him a giant hug.

"What brings you here?" My dad asked, always one to get directly to the point.

"Oh come on now Bob, let us have this conversation latter over dinner. She's probably just here because she misses us!" Mom replied, although she knew that really wasn't the reason I was here…otherwise she wouldn't have been in such a hurry to end that part of the conversation.

"Marice…" Dad started. "What exactly are you cooking for dinner?"

"Meat loaf…why?" Mom answered.

"Honey, Harl…" Dad started and I felt a slight twinge of anger.

"Harley...…dammit, HARLEEN!" I corrected both them and myself.

My parents turned to look at me with confusion in their eyes.

"I thought you liked it when I called you Harl?" Dad asked with hurt in his eyes.

"Dad…look, can you just please refrain from any shortenings of my name tonight?" I asked.

My dad, luckily knowing how to take a hint, unhappily obliged.

"Harleen, doesn't want to have to go through the pain of eating your meat loaf." Dad joked.

"UGH! The nerve of you." Mom replied, "Of course Harl…" I shot a glance at her. "Harleen wants to eat my meat loaf! Don't you hun?"

"Of course I do mom! I lov…" I started answering, but mom cut me off.

"Marice." Mom said.

"What?" I asked, somewhat confused.

"Call me Marice, I would appreciate it if you could refrain from any shortening of my name." Mom answered jokingly, smirking at me.

Her and dad bursted out laughing, which pissed me the off entirely. I could feel me face turning red, my hands clenching in fists, me temperature rising. I mean this is how I always remembered them, they were jokers and loved to have fun and laugh, but now was not the day to be messing with me about something so serious. Serious? Who am I kidding, I probably sounded like a complete dumbass or psychopath to them when I told them not to shorten my name. Maybe they thought I was the one joking.

"Hah." I let out a little fake laugh, hopefully they wouldn't notice. I don't really want them worrying about me and especially about my sanity.

The rest of the night went relatively smooth, we talked a bit about my job at Arkham…I of course left out some of the more gruesome details, or in this case, pretty much _all_ of the details…we talked about what I have been up to in my free time, about why I hadn't come to visit them, and then all the sudden something happened. I all the sudden had a strange urge to watch cartoons. Even when I was younger I was always appalled by cartoons, they always seemed that they were directed towards an audience that had only half a brain and maybe even less. My parents knew this and of course refrained from ever making me watch any of those dumb _educational _cartoons when I was a child. The urge was just…irresistible somehow though.

"You care if I watch some tv?" I asked.

"Of course not, in fact, the Bulls game is on right now! Remember how much you use to love the Bulls, mainly cause of their team colors, but as you got older you seemed to legitimately root for them. Guess it runs in the family!" Dad answered.

"Umm, I was actually thinking that maybe…maybe I could watch like…" Oh god this is gonna sound stupid. "Scooby-Doo are something like that?"

"What?" Dad asked, a shocked expression coming across his face.

"Or maybe Tom and Jerry, I saw that you had some DVD sets of that show, and it kind of caught my eye." I continued.

"We only have those because we were trying to find something you would like, and it turns out you utterly hatted cartoons with a hatred unmatched in this world. Why in the blue Hell would you want to watch them now…at you age no less?" Dad asked, starting to raise his voice.

"Well, the violence is excessive and hilarious in them." I answered shrugging. "I could use a laugh."

"The violence? You want to watch cartoons for the violence?" Dad asked in a tone of disbelief.

"Pretty much…or you know what a funny movie might be…Hostel! It might be funnier than Saw, but I'm sure on that one yet." I replied, not even realizing what I was doing.

"Saw? Hostel?" Dad asked.

"OH, don't forget Human Centipede!" I chirped in.

"You call those comedies?" Dad asked. "What the fuck is the matter with you?"

"Wha…are they not comedies?" I asked.

"NO! They're torture porn! They're complete shit!" Dad exclaimed.

"Sounds interesting." I replied.

"For a psychological study?" Dad asked, desperately trying to make since of what I was saying.

"No silly goose, for a movie night with my puddin'!" I exclaimed excitedly.

"WHAT!?" Dad asked, "Since when are you seeing somebody?"

"Since Arky put me as J-Man's doctor!" I responded.

"J-MAN!" Dad exclaimed. "You mean JOKER?"

"Si, senor!" I responded.

"TIME FOR DINNER!" Mom screamed, snapping me back to sanity and reality.

"Oh good, I'm starving!" I said, and then looked up at dad who was fuming. It looked almost as if his head was about to erupt into ashes.

Shit. I was really gone there for a few minutes, talking about how torture porn sounded interesting and was funny, called Joker my pudding, acting childish. This is really…really bad. I can't believe I just said all of that! What the hell am I going to tell him…that I was joking? Yea, that's what I'll do. At this point, it's the only thing I _can _do.

"Dad, I was joking about all that other stuff." I said, "Forget about it…let's go eat dinner."

We walked into the kitchen and found ourselves face to face with an awful beast that seemingly thrashed and flopped around on the table…growing at us with fierceness in its eyes, it cold hard exterior slimy and greasy. My mom's meatloaf…the most terrifying thing to ever be cooked in this world. The most god awful thing a man or woman ever had to lay his or her eyes on, let alone bit into.

I sat down at the table and thanked my mom as she plopped a big piece of meatloaf on my plate. _Yay!_ My dad took a seat at the head of the table and my mom across from me. We said our prayers and dug in. The juices from the meatloaf squirted on my face as I stabbed it with my knife and fork. The damn thing was alive…alive and ready to terrorize my family once again. I began to feel funky, and felt my mind slipping from me again. Shit…it's happening more and more often now! I began to laugh quietly to myself for seemingly no reason…stop, stop, stop! Suddenly I began to laugh louder and louder. My parents dropped the forks and stared at me as I began to cry in laughter. I fell out of my seat and rolled on the floor, barely able to breathe from the endless laughter.

"What the hell is so funny?" Dad asked.

"I…I...do…don…don't know!" I answered and then continued my laughing fit.

"STOP LAUGHING DAMMIT! STOP IT BEFORE I LOSE!" Dad exploded, standing up from his seat. "You have been acting strange ever since you got here. What the hell is up with you?"

The explosion from him rocked me and I stopped laughing. I stood up, straightened my skirt, and sat back down in my chair.

"Ya know…" I started. "Ya really don't have to be sooooooooooo serious bucko! You need to laugh every once in a while!"

"Are you okay hun?" Mom asked concerned.

"Am I okay? I'm perfectly fine! The question isn't am I okay, it's are you okay? How long did it take for you to make this monstrosity that I'm eating right now? I mean honestly! This looks like something some freak from Arkham would cook up! Where'd ya get the ingredients…our local nuclear waste dump? Cause whateva' you put in this thing has caused to come alive!" I said and started poking at the thing on my plate with my fork.

My dad and mom stared at me blank faces, mouths wise opened. I ignored them and began humming to myself as I continued to prod at the thing on my plate, imagining it was Arky's face. I startled to giggle a little as juice squirted out and hit me in the nose.

"Ya know, you two need to talk more." I said. "Where is the fun? The laughter? This reminds me of a joke. You see, there were these two guys in a lunatic asylum... and one night... one night they decide they don't like living in an asylum any more. They decide that they were going to escape! So like they get up on to the roof, and there, just across the narrow gap, they see the rooftops of the town, stretching away in moon light... stretching away to freedom. Now the first guy he jumps right across with no problem. But his friend, his friend daren't make the leap. Y'see he's afraid of falling... So then the first guy has an idea. He says "Hey! I have my flash light with me. I will shine it across the gap between the buildings. You can walk across the beam and join me." But, the second guy just shakes his head. He says... he says "What do you think I am, crazy? You would turn it off when I was half way across." HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

My dad slowly went over and got the knife from the counter, obviously terrified at what the hell was going on. My mom followed suit.

"What's ya gonna do with that there knife?" I asked and then began laughing hysterically. "You, gonna…stab me? Please, not the knife, not the butter knife that can barely cut meat loaf! HAHAHAHAHA!"

"Honey…what is wrong with you?" Mom asked, sensing that I wasn't myself. "What is happening in that little head of yours?"

"Fireworks!" I replied. "Lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of FIREWORKS! Don't ya just love all their colors they emit! Reminds me of my puddin' Mistah J…oh you two should meets him, he's a real jokester Mistah J. Me thinks that you three would get along just right!"

I took a step towards them, licking my lips.

"Harleen…listen to your dad. Step back and just leave the house. We'll pretend like this night never happened. Say it was a nightmare or something." Dad responded.

"MY NAME IS HARLEY! HARLEY QUINN! NOT HARLEEN!" I exploded. "What type of formal name is _Harleen_? That's the name of some stuck up snobby docta, not a fun lovin' gal like myself!"

I ran up towards my dad, and got right into his face. The fear on his breath was incredibly noticeable and the knife in his hand glistened in the moonlight emitting from outside.

"Harley…please." Dad started, but I put a finger up to his lip.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…" I shushed. "Listen. Do you hear that?"

The house grew unnaturally quiet and still as all three of us stood there in silence.

"There it is again!" I exclaimed and turned my head towards the door. "Oh my! I knows who what it is!"

"What? What is it?" Mom asked worriedly.

"It's my sweet Mistah J comin' to claim me!" I said. "Oh and he won't like that you have been threatening his pooh with that mean old knife there! Won't like it one bit."

My dad and mom stood there, frozen in fear. Scared that any second now a madman would burst into the house and kill _all_ three of us. I smiled slightly and then exploded in laughter.

"GOT YOU!" I exclaimed! "HAHAHAHAHA! You actually thought somebody was gonna come into the house. Oh boy what a riot!"

"Get the hell out Harleen, Harley…whoever the fuck you are. Get out and don't come back until you get some major psychiatric help." Dad said.

My smile slowly faded and my mind came back to me. I dropped to my knees and began to sob, an endless stream of tears came out of my eyes and bursted onto the floor beneath me.

"I…I'm so sorry." I pleaded looking up at my mom and dad who had a look of sorrow, yet at the same time a look of relief, upon their faces.

"Honey…it's okay." Mom replied, dropping down and hugging me tightly.

"I…I ca…can't help myself." I tried to explain between the sobs. "Wh…what is wrong with me?"

"Nothing honey, nothing is wrong with you. You've had a bad week that's all." Mom replied, trying to calm me down.

My dad stared at us, trying to contemplate what to do next. Finally he made his decision.

"I said to leave." Dad said coldly.

Mom looked up at him, anger in her eyes.

"You're gonna kick her out when she needs us the most?" Mom asked.

"Yes." Dad replied.

"You creten. You are no better than a common child abuser if you kick her out now." Mom said.

"He's right mom, I need to go. I…I can't stay here. If I we…were to lo…lose control over myself again and hu…hu…hurt you in any way. Go…God help me. I…I have to go." I said through the tears. I walked to the front door and opened it slowly.

"I love you both." I said, fighting off the tears.

"We love you too." Mom said.

"We truly do honey." Dad backed up, obviously trying to fight back the tears and maintain his cool exterior.

I walked out the door and towards my car, glancing back in time to see the door to my sanity close shut behind me. I got in my car and drove off…drove off to confront the cause of all this…drove off to Arkham.

_Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! As always reviews are always welcome. Also be sure to check out my other fanfics, "Family Ties" and "Knockin' On Heaven's Door" Thanks for reading once again!_


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